


and i will follow (where this takes me)

by orphan_account



Series: always on my mind [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Basically, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bottom Harley Keener, Fucking, Gay Harley Keener, I mean, M/M, Making Out, Sex, Smut, Tony literally walks in on them post sex, Top Peter Parker, YALL THIS IS SMUT, aight I’m out, it’s a thing, peter tops harley, read at your own risk I guess, read through the series from the beginning to understand, see ya later fuckers, that’s it that’s the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: READ FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE SERIES FOR UNDERSTANDINGPeter doesn’t know what to do. It’s been four weeks since Harley rode him and he wants, well, to put it frank he really wants to top Harley.But how do you exactly say that type of thing?‘Hi, remember when you asked about you bottoming and I said someday? Let’s do it.’Maybe.~Peter wants more.~lowkey actually not so yEAH IT’S JUST SMUT
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Series: always on my mind [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642360
Comments: 13
Kudos: 485





	and i will follow (where this takes me)

Summer is over in four weeks.

The thought slaps Peter in the face. 

Sure, it’ll be great to see Ned and MJ more regularly. It’s his senior year, and he’s ready to have a fucking normal year, for once. 

It’s been six weeks since Harley showed up. Four weeks since they kissed and two since Harley rode him for the first time.

Now, with the threat of school and Harley’s return to Tennessee looming on the horizon, he feels the need to do everything, right now. 

He also  really wants to fuck Harley. 

He wants to see Harley’s face again, that face he made after he sank down onto Peter. He’d looked like he’d seen a shard of heaven. He wants the feel of Harley clenching around him. He- god, he just  wants .

But how do you exactly say that type of thing? 

_Hi, remember when you asked about bottoming and I said someday? Let’s do it._

He can’t exactly say that. 

Maybe, he can corner Harley. Just start him up. He knows how they get.

So maybe he’ll do that.

It’s the end of the day when Peter finally sees his opportunity. It’s late, everyone’s in bed. Harley’s still working out of sheer stubbornness. 

He’s so cute when he’s concentrating. He bites his lip and sometimes tugs on his tawny hair, which causes him to wince if he pulls a little too hard.

Peter’s just watching from the door when Harley notices him. 

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

“I kind of want to fuck you.”

Peter slams a hand over his mouth but he’s too late.  Fuck . 

Harley chuckles. “We’ve been doing that for a while, sweetheart.”

Peter sighs internally, still berating himself for his obvious lack of tact. Fuck it,  he thinks. He wants this, and he’s pretty sure Harley does too. 

“No,” Peter says, fumbling for the correct word. “I want to top you.”

The reaction is immediate. A sharp clang echoes around the lab when Harley drops his tool. He quickly resurrects it and places it back on the stand. 

Peter balks. “I’d you don’t want to, that’s completely-“

He stops. Harley is walking towards him. If Peter didn’t know Harley well, he might assume Harley means to put him in danger. But he knows that face. 

Harley pushes him against the wall and crushes their lips together. 

It’s the same feeling every time. Fire, lava, just... heat. It’s everywhere, tingling like a wildfire across his skin. 

Harley’s hand travels down to his hip, brushing Peter’s skin with feather light touches. 

Suddenly, he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing. He remembers why he started this in the first place. 

Using some of his super strength, he grabs Harley’s hips and yanks them to the left, pinning Harley against the wall. A small oof escapes the southern boy’s mouth from the impact.

Peter doesn’t care. There’s so much adrenaline and dopamine in his veins right now, his want for Harley is consuming him. It’s all he wants. And he sure wants all of it. 

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since you rode me two weeks ago,” Peter growls into Harley’s neck. He pauses to kiss Harley’s tendon, then bares his teeth on it. There’s going to be a blooming bruise there tomorrow, but Peter doesn’t care. 

“The way you looked, when you sank onto me,” Peter continues. He grinds his leg down between Harley’s, feeling the other boy through his jeans. “God, I’ve been wanting that again for two fucking weeks.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” Harley gasps. “Please baby, you gotta-“

Peter loves seeing Harley like this. Because only he gets to see this. Everyone else gets to see the snarky southern boy he’s probably falling in love with, but only he gets to make Harley fall apart at the end of the day. Only he can do that. 

He leans over, scooping Harley up and practically throwing him over his shoulder, then walking towards the exit. Harley makes a small noise of surprise, then realizes how close he is to Peter’s ass. He reaches down and squeezes it.

“You don’t really know how to quit, do you,” Peter jokes. He sets Harley down by his door, pausing for a split second to unlock it before pushing Harley inside. 

He’s thrown off Harley’s shirt before they’ve even reached the bedroom, his own following swiftly. His hands reach towards Harley’s hips, fumbling with his belt. His lust-shaken fingers eventually loosen the clasp and unbutton the jeans. He shoves then down, and Harley climbs out of them without hesitation. 

Peter shucks off his own pants, and then promptly trips over them, sending him and Harley tumbling onto the bed. 

“Smooth, sweetheart. Real-,” Harley drawls. Peter grinds down on him, and Harley’s statement ends with a moan. The hard crux of their bodies find each other through the thin fabric, and it leaves them both gasping.

“Come on, baby,” Harley says, his voice changing from snarky to gasping within seconds. “Fuck me before I lose my goddamn mind.”

Peter grins, leaning to his bedside and pulling out the tube of lube he stole from Harley earlier in the day, along with a condom. He hooks his fingers around Harley’s boxer waistband, tugging playfully.

“Peter,” Harley groans. 

Swiftly he tugs Harley’s boxers off, throwing them without looking. His own join Harley’s and it’s only a moment before he’s straddling the other boy completely naked. 

“Jesus,” Harley whimpers. “Oh god.”

Peter pours some lube on his fingers, leaning down to kiss Harley while his other hand finds it’s way between Harley’s legs. Kissing him slowly, Peter begins to work him open. 

He can barely still kiss him, because Harley’s moaning and writhing and clenching around him in ways that make him want to scream and make him sweaty thinking about when they go full throttle. 

He scissors his fingers again, admiring the strangled sound coming from Harley. 

“I’m ready Darling,” He gasps. “Please- please-“

Peter can get the message, he withdraws his fingers, rolling on the condom and slicking himself up. He positions himself and looks up. “Ready?”

“So ready,” Harley moans. “Please.”

With the slightest hesitation, Peter presses in. 

Moving slowly so Harley can adjust, he sinks inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside Harley. Harley’s gasping underneath him, huge deep breaths that match the blown out look in his eyes. 

Peter has to throw out a hand to steady himself. Harley just looks too good, too flustered. His other hand frames Harley’s chin delicately. 

“Do you want me to move?” He whispers, thrusting his hips just the tiniest fraction. 

Harley lets out a crazed whine. “Y-yes. Please.”

Peter hesitantly pulls out, then slowly thrusts back in. Judging by the look on Harley’s face, he’s doing well.

Slowly, surely, he lets himself sink into the sensual rhythm. Harley’s heat so overbearing, he can hear Harley’s heartbeat. It’s erratic, wild and unbridled. 

“Fuck me,” Harley moans. “Harder, sweetheart, please.”

Peter can do nothing but oblige. He thrusts his hips with suddenly with a roiling speed, and Harley makes a noise that sounds in between a whimper and a cry. 

Peter keeps up his newly set pace, thanking God and anything else above for his super strength, which also includes super stamina. He rocks back and forth, pushing himself in and out of Harley at a reckless speed. His breath catches and he moans at Harley’s slick heat enveloping him again and again. It only pushes him to thrust harder.

Harley looks like he’s ablaze, with sweat shining on his neck and chest. His hands are clenching the sheets so hard his knuckles are white. Arching his chest, Harley tilts his hips and allows for Peter to hit new angles. 

“Sweetheart,” Harley gasps. “Baby please, please-“

“Anything,” Peter gasps. “Anything.”

Harley looked him as straight in the eye as he can, his body shifting up in down in response to Peter’s rhythmic thrusts. “Harder.”

The single word almost sends Peter off the edge right there. But he does as asked. 

Thrusting his hips at the same speed, he doesn’t slow down as their hips meet instead slamming them together at full force. Harley cries out, his hands twitching and clenching handfuls of sheet. Peter grabs them, using his knees to keep balance for a second while he thrusts, and threads his fingers through Harley’s fists. Then, he pins Harley’s hands above his head with his own hands, nudging Harley’s legs with his own so they’ll open up a bit more. 

The noises are obscene, the slaps of flesh against flesh and the moans of two barely-still-teenagers who are so wrapped up in each other. Harley’s moaning, so loud he might have been worried under normal circumstances. But it’s late and the walls are thick and right now he cares about nothing but pleasing Harley. 

Peter keeps thrusting, marveling at the fact that Harley hasn’t come yet. He’s close himself, but he knows he’ll only follow Harley over the edge. 

“Peter,” Harley gasps, and then Peter notices his thrusts have gotten shorter and softer in the moment he’s been distracted. He snaps them fastand Harley dissolves again, putty underneath his hands. 

“I love seeing you like this,” Peter gasps. “I know I said it before but it’s true. Here, it’s better. You’re so helpless, baby. Letting me fuck you...” He draws in another frantic breath. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Darling,” Harley chokes. “You’re too good- too good to me,  _god_ -“

Peter slams his hips even harder, he knows this must hurt but Harley’s getting off on the pain. He changes his angle and knows, he’s hit it. That’s  the spot .

He knows because Harley whines, shuddering and arching his spine. Harley cries, “Right there- yes, baby, fuck yes, don’t stop, _don’t_ _stop, fuck-_ ”

Peter keeps thrusting and buries himself deep with a snap, curving his hips and assaulting Harley’s prostate to the point of no return. 

Harley’s sob echoes through the room, hips flying up of their own accord as he shakes and rides through his orgasm, Peter following with his own.

Bone tired and blissed out in a dopamine haze, Peter collapses over Harley. “Pretty damn good, huh,” he mumbles.

Harley just makes an amorphous sound and fumbles his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him close. 

Peter removes himself from Harley, who lets out a hiss from the pull out.

“I’m gonna go get a washcloth,” Peter mutters. “Stay.”

He comes back with a damp washcloth, and gently wipes the half dried liquid from both of them, peeling off the condom and throwing it in the trash. Discarding the washcloth, he climbs into bed next to Harley, who seems to have regained his voice. “That was the best orgasm of my life,” he whispers. “I mean, Jesus fucking  Christ .” His fingers dance lightly over Peter’s chest, admiring his muscles.

Peter laughs quietly. “I love you.”

As soonas the words are out of his mouth he panics. Within three seconds, he considers dashing out of the window naked and running to Spain, or Portugal. Maybe he can just hide in like, Buffalo, or something until Harley forgets he ever said the over-dramatized three words. 

But nothing happens. 

“I think I love you too,” Harley murmurs. He turns around so Peter isn’t spooning him anymore. Bright blue eyes stare into soft brown ones. A tawny, sun-tanned hand brushes through brown curls. Two smiles beam at each other while two hearts beat as one.

Everything is as it should be. 

When 10:00 passes the next day and Peter and Harley still aren’t awake, Tony’s starting to get worried. “Are you sure they’re ok?” He asks Pepper.

She nods dismissively. “They’re probably still asleep. You know teenage boys.”

Tony nods, but after Pepper leaves he frowns. He knows Harley was desperate for the new part that was arriving today. Surely he’d be up here at the crack of dawn to get it.

Tony leaves the lab and knocks in on Harley’s door, the sound echoing. He tests the knob hesitantly, finding it to be open. 

On closer inspection, there appears to be no one in the apartment at all. The little suite plus kitchen and living space is entirely unoccupied. 

Frowning, Tony decides to check on Peter next. His heart thumps a little louder in his chest. There’s no sense in raising the alarm yet, but something in him made him feel uneasy. 

Going to Peter’s door and knocking, again, he hears nothing. And again, he turns the handle and opens the door. 

He doesn’t notice stepping over a shirt on his way to the bedroom. 

He doesn’t notice the other bits of clothes strewn around outside the bedroom, not at all.

He opens the door and it takes all of his self power not to shriek. 

There, the blankets pulled up barely above his hips, is Peter. 

It wouldn’t seem so weird if he wasn’t entertained with Harley Keener and the both of them were naked. 

Backing up slowly, he almost trips over a pair of boxers obviously thrown out of the way in lust and lunacy. 

Quietly, he leaves the apartment, shuts the door, then lightly collapses on it. 

Damn. God fucking damn. 

His kids are fucking. 

Well, they aren’t technically his kids but anyone be damned if they say he can’t take care of them. 

But still.

_ Damn . _

**Author's Note:**

> ok I’m just gonna  
> *slides out of frame*


End file.
